


The Dress

by Remainsofthe



Category: Remains of the Day - Kazuo Ishiguro
Genre: F/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-13
Updated: 2019-08-13
Packaged: 2020-08-20 21:28:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 10,252
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20234656
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Remainsofthe/pseuds/Remainsofthe
Summary: Stevens is surprised when he finds Miss Kenton wearing a posh evening dress.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This story is less sad and a bit more whimsical than “Catherine”. I wrote it with Stevens as first person narrator and I tried to stay as close to how he is in the novel as possible (since this is fanfic I made him a little bit less repressed but not much).  
Again I’d like to thank Zircon for correcting my English and giving valuable suggestions. All errors are, of course, my own.  
This story is also online on FanFiction.net

I had a rather unusual sight today. A sight which has somehow stayed in my mind and preoccupied me more than it probably merits.  
It was a quiet day until the early afternoon when Doris rushed into my pantry, visibly excited.  
“Mr Stevens, Cook has fallen down a ladder and hurt her foot! She thinks it might be broken.”  
I immediately followed Doris to the kitchen where I found that, indeed, Mrs Jennings had fallen and either sprained or even broken her ankle. She was certainly in a lot of pain. I telephoned the doctor, who promised to come as soon as possible, and then set out to look for Miss Kenton. It was her day off but I knew that she would want to be informed.  
I went to her parlour but found it empty. That was rather unusual. Miss Kenton had not told me that she would be going to the village, and the weather was far too wet and dreary even for her to go on one of her walks. Also, I had not seen her walking in the grounds through one of the windows. And when she doesn’t go out on her days off, she usually spends them in her parlour, reading or mending or writing letters. So I found myself at a bit of a loss. In the end I decided there was nothing for it but to check her private room. I was not keen on that, of course. I have only called on her there a very few times in all those years, but after what had happened to Mrs Jennings it was imperative that the housekeeper be informed of such a disruption to the orderly running of the house.  
When I knocked at Miss Kenton’s door there was no reaction but a low muffled noise. This was most strange, and after some seconds of hesitation I knocked again and called out, “Miss Kenton, I am very sorry to disturb you, but there has been an accident.”  
A few moments later the door was opened rather reluctantly. And as soon as I saw Miss Kenton I could well understand why.  
She was wearing a dress.  
Now that was obviously nothing unusual. It was the nature of the dress which was extraordinary, for it was an expensive evening gown, and a rather old one at that. I’m by no means an expert on women’s fashion, but I’d say it belonged to the Edwardian period, in the years just before the Great War, and thus must have been well over twenty years old. The dress was simple and yet very elegant, made of a shimmering dark red cloth with elaborate embroidery at the neckline and the waist. The colour gave an extraordinary shine to Miss Kenton’s fair skin. And there was rather more of her skin on display than I had ever expected to see in my life. Not that the dress was frivolous, not at all, but as these dresses go it was, of course, cut in a certain way, which in this case meant that the neckline was oval and rather wide, and exposed most of Miss Kenton’s shoulders.  
I quickly glanced up but when I looked into her face I found that it had changed, too. Usually Miss Kenton always wears a ribbon to hold back her hair. A very sensible and becoming hairstyle, I might add. But now she had removed the ribbon and her hair was tumbling down all around her face and onto her bare shoulders in a somewhat distracting manner.  
In spite of this most unusual appearance I was able to catch myself after a few seconds. When I met her eyes I found that Miss Kenton seemed rather flustered, but she braced herself at once, raised her chin in the defiant way I know so well and asked, “Well, Mr Stevens? You said there’s been an accident?”  
I decided not to comment on her appearance and informed her of Cook’s mishap. Immediately Miss Kenton’s expression changed to one of concern.  
“I thought you would want to be informed,” I closed my statement.  
“Quite right, Mr Stevens.”  
“Perhaps you could come down and see after Mrs Jennings?”  
“I will go to the kitchen at once,” she stated.  
I remained standing across her. Somehow I couldn’t help my eyes flickering down to her extraordinary dress, but Miss Kenton still pretended that nothing was unusual.  
“Mr Stevens,” she added a little irritated, “I’ll just be a few moments.”  
“Certainly, Miss Kenton.” And I left the room.  
She did join us in the kitchen after a short while, now clad in her usual attire. Her hair had also returned to its customary style. The doctor arrived half an hour later and, after a thorough examination, pronounced that Cook’s ankle was merely sprained, if rather severely. After that the household settled down again, Mrs Jennings being able to delegate the preparation of dinner from a chair in the kitchen.  
I didn’t expect to see Miss Kenton later that evening since after all it was her day off and on these days we meet for our customary cup of cocoa only if there is something very important to discuss. So I was rather surprised when, a few minutes after nine, she knocked on the door to my pantry.  
She entered rather resolutely but there was a hint of embarrassment on her face as she took her position in front of my table where I was busy working through a stack of bills.  
“Mr Stevens,” she began, “I think I owe you an explanation for my unusual attire today.”  
“Miss Kenton,” I replied, leaning back in my chair, “it is none of my business what you do on your free day. As long, of course, as it does not affect the running of the house.”  
“Of course,” she said, and her tone was somewhat wry. There was a pause then, and she looked down at the stack of bills in front of me, but eventually raised her head again and went on: “Well, I just wanted to let you know that I’m not in the habit of dressing up like that, playing at being a great lady...or pinching evening gowns or whatever you might have thought.”  
“Really Miss Kenton,” I said with a small laugh, “I have not thought anything like that. In fact, I have not thought about it at all.”  
“Oh.” This seemed to deflate her to some degree but she went on nevertheless. “Well, the fact is that the dress you saw me in was given to me by Lord Darlington. It belonged to his late wife.”  
“I see.”  
“His Lordship seems to have gone through some of his wife’s possessions lately, and he decided that there was no use keeping this dress. Since it is now quite old fashioned and cannot be used as an evening gown anymore, he gave it to me. He thought I might be able to cut it up and use the cloth, for myself or for making cushions.”  
“Ah, I understand.”  
She paused and looked at me expectantly, as if she was waiting for a reaction. Now she had given her explanation there was nothing unusual in this whole business. It is perfectly normal for servants to be given and to accept clothes formerly in the possession of their employers. I myself own a number of suits which once belonged to Lord Darlington, and also a few given to me by some of his guests.  
An uncomfortable silence had developed, and at last I found myself asking, “So what do you intend to do with the gown?”  
Miss Kenton heaved a sigh. “I don’t really know, Mr Stevens. I will undo it, I suppose. I should. There is no use in keeping such a dress. After all I will never be able to wear it.” She had spoken the last words in a wistful tone and was now looking down at her hands which she had clasped in front of her. “But it’s a shame to destroy such a beautiful thing.” She looked up again and smiled rather self-deprecatingly. “I’m afraid today my vanity got the better of me, and that’s why you found me wearing it.”  
“Indeed.” I didn’t know what else to say. Her eyes were fixed on me, in the insistent way she sometimes has. I looked out of the window, thinking I had heard the sound of rain. But it seemed I was mistaken. “Well, it is a nice dress,” I said, still looking into the night. “And as I understand it, Lord Darlington has given it to you to do with it as you please. I don’t think he cares what happens to it.”  
“Perhaps you are right, Mr Stevens. I will think about it.”  
I nodded, than looked back at her again, giving a significant glance to the bills in front of me.  
“I will leave you to your work,” she said readily enough. “Excuse me for disturbing you.”  
“Not at all, Miss Kenton. Good night.”  
“Good night, Mr Stevens.”  
And she turned and left my room.  
I went back to the bills but found that my mind kept wandering back to the conversation I had just had, and to the sight I’d had earlier that day, of Miss Kenton clad in the evening gown. Now the reason for this is quite obvious. The question of how to handle this issue of the handed down clothes is something to which I – and I would suppose everyone in service – has given some thought. For not always is this subject as unproblematic as it is with Lord Darlington. As I told Miss Kenton, if Lord Darlington gives one of his servants some clothes, he does not oblige him or her to use them in a certain way. But there are other masters who will expect the servant to wear them, sometimes even if the size or style is quite unbecoming, or if the clothes are threadbare or old fashioned. I have to emphasize that this is never the case with Lord Darlington: the presents he makes are always in very good condition. So I really don’t think Miss Kenton ought to trouble herself with any expectations his Lordship might have as to the use of the dress.  
And one could in a way understand her reluctance to destroy the gown. It is, one has to admit, quite beautiful, and seems to fit her in a remarkable way. I never met Lady Darlington since she died before I came to Darlington Hall, but I have seen photographs of her, and, while I never thought about it before, she and Miss Kenton seem to be rather alike with regard to body height and figure.  
Now I have thought about it a bit more there might be another reason why the whole issue has stayed in my mind so prominently. What I mean is that seeing Miss Kenton like that without warning was something of a shock. For usually she dresses of course in a very different way. And I think it was the great contrast between her customary attire and her unexpected appearance in the elegant evening gown which has somehow fixed the sight of Miss Kenton in my mind.  
And if one considers it further, it was perhaps not only the mere contrast between the two styles of dressing which produced that effect. I am reminded of an occurrence some months ago, when Sir Jeffrey came to visit his Lordship and brought with him his valet Mr Benn. As it turned out, Mr Benn had worked with Miss Kenton at Stanton Lacy some years ago, and the two were quite pleased to meet again. Mr Benn seemed to think very highly of Miss Kenton, which is only understandable since he knows from firsthand experience what an excellent housekeeper she is. I remember he and I were taking a night cap in my pantry and Miss Kenton had just brought us fresh soda. When she was leaving Mr Benn was looking after her for some moments and when she had passed out of earshot he said, “Good looking woman,” or something to that effect. Naturally I did not reply to this, as I am not in the habit of commenting of my fellow servants’ appearance. But when one thinks about it, there is surely no point in denying that many people might call Miss Kenton ‘good looking’. She never draws attention to it like other women do by dressing in a provocative way, or painting her face, or such things. No, her attire is always very modest and sensible. And so one tends not to dwell on her looks, apart from sporadic occasions when one is struck by a certain graceful movement, or by how the sunlight lights up her hair.  
Anyway, as I said, her usual way of dressing does nothing to emphasise her charms. Now with the evening gown it was obviously different, as such dresses are cut to draw attention to these things. And there certainly is no harm in admitting that, indeed, Miss Kenton looked very lovely. And this naturally added to the great contrast between her usual appearance and the sight she presented to me today, and is one of the reasons why it has stayed in my mind in such a persistent way.


	2. Chapter 2

Several weeks have passed since I happened upon Miss Kenton wearing the evening gown and I have scarcely ever thought about it. I could, however, not fail to notice that no new cushions made out of that shimmering red cloth had appeared around the house.  
Today something happened, though, which made me recall that incident again.  
In the afternoon Lord Darlington summoned me to the library. When I entered he made a great show of perusing the backs of a row of books and so it was apparent to me that, whatever he wanted to impart to me, he was not happy about it.  
“Ah, Stevens,” he said after some moments. “There is something I have to tell you.”  
“Yes, my Lord?”  
“Mr Cardinal and his wife will visit us in five weeks time. The weekend of the 21st.”  
“Very well, Sir.”  
“Yes. It’s their wedding anniversary. Unfortunately their house is being refurbished at the moment, and so I have decided to give a celebration for them, invite some of their friends over the weekend.”  
He paused and I waited for him to go on, a bit bewildered. Nothing of what Lord Darlington had told me so far merited his nervousness.  
“The thing is,” he finally said, “Mrs Cardinal seems to have very specific wishes. In fact she wants to have a fancy dress party.”  
“I see.” This still was not so extraordinary. While his Lordship is not partial to this sort of entertainment, I know that it is common in other houses.  
“Yes. I talked to them, and she is quite enthusiastic about it. Well, the point is, Stevens, that, according to her, it would be very important for the whole spirit of the event that everyone is in costume. Including the servants.”  
“Oh.” It took me a few seconds to digest this. “I understand, Sir.”  
He sighed. “I know this will cause you a lot of trouble.”  
“Not at all, Sir, we will manage.”  
He smiled. “Very good, I expected nothing else from you. Listen, perhaps you might be able to use some of the old clothes stored in the attic? And obviously there will be a budget for any expenses you might incur.” He turned back to the bookshelf. “Well, Stevens, I will inform you as soon as I have more details.”  
“Yes, Sir.” And I left.  
I think it is quite understandable that this news alarmed me somewhat. And even though I tried not to show it, it seems that I was so preoccupied with Lord Darlington’s words and their ramifications that I was not able to hide from Miss Kenton that something was on my mind. She is very perceptive about these things.  
It was when we met tonight in her parlour for our usual session over cocoa. I had been staring into the fire for some time when her voice disturbed my reveries.  
“Mr Stevens, what’s troubling you?”  
For a moment I thought about deflecting her question, but I would have to tell her eventually, and there was no real reason why I should not do so now. So I turned back to face her and said, “His Lordship informed me today that in five weeks time, on the weekend of the 21st, he will give a costume party to celebrate Mr Cardinal’s wedding anniversary.”  
Her face lit up with what can only be described as excitement. It seemed that Miss Kenton had nothing against fancy dress parties. “What an unusual idea,” she exclaimed. “I don’t think we have ever had anything like this.”  
I shook my head. “No, we have not. His Lordship is not partial to this kind of...entertainment.”  
The corner of her mouth twitched in a wry smile. “I take it you are not very partial to ‘this kind of entertainment’ yourself, Mr Stevens?”  
I huffed. “That hardly matters, Miss Kenton. If his Lordship wants to give such a party, we will do our best to support him.”  
“Of course we will.” But there was still a mischievous sparkle in her eyes and I was wondering if it hadn’t been a mistake to tell her.   
Still, I could not stop now, so I went on, “The thing is, Mrs Cardinal seems to insist that not only the guests dress up in costumes, but that the servants join in as well – so as not to disrupt the whole atmosphere.”  
Her eyebrows shot up. “That’s unusual.” She was quiet for a few moments. “Oh, I see.”  
“What do you see, Miss Kenton?” I could not help asking.  
She looked me straight in the eyes. “I see why you are troubled by this.”  
“Do you?” I replied and glanced down at my cup of cocoa.  
“Yes. You are worried that, as soon as the staff sheds their usual uniforms, they’ll also forget who they are. That they’ll forget their proper place and duty.”  
“You are very perceptive, Miss Kenton,” I said to my cup of cocoa. “I was indeed worrying about something like this.”  
She was silent and after a while I looked up again. There was a musing expression on her face. “Are you familiar with the concept of carnival, Mr Stevens?” She asked eventually.  
“I think so,” I replied, surprised. “It’s a catholic custom, isn’t it?”  
She nodded. “Yes, but I read that parts of it go back to ancient pagan festivals. Anyway, as I understand it one of its original functions was to provide a safe outlet for rebellious feelings. If I remember correctly, masquerading and a reversal of social roles were encouraged for a time so that after that the social hierarchy was stable for another year.”  
I raised an eyebrow. I know that Miss Kenton is an avid reader, but it always surprises me just how eclectic her reading is. “I fail to see how this is supposed to make me feel better.”  
She smiled. “Well, what I want to say is that perhaps it’s not all bad to have such an event, once in a while. And honestly, I don’t think that any of our staff will really forget his or her place and role.” She reached for her cup of cocoa, not looking at me. “I know what a great importance you attribute to proper clothing, Mr Stevens. And I agree with you. But I don’t think you have much to worry about.”  
I bristled. After all correct attire is of supreme important in service. A servant’s uniform is an integral part of his person, telling the whole world and also himself who he is. It’s like armour, shielding him in many ways, determining how people react to him. As soon as you shed that, it is much harder to keep up a professional bearing, to maintain dignity. I was a little surprised that Miss Kenton, who upholds such a high level of service, seemed not as troubled as I was. And while I was searching for a reply, I had to think of that afternoon when I had surprised her in her room, wearing that evening gown. And certainly that was a point in my favour, for this event had clearly shown how a sudden change of attire can affect those who witness it. I could, however, hardly tell her that. And I also had no reason to believe that, merely by putting on that dress, she’d also put on airs. She is not the type for that. So I let it rest.   
She was looking at me in a guarded way, probably expecting a sharp reply. But somehow by that point I no longer felt like it, so I only said, “Well, Miss Kenton, I still believe that the right attire is paramount for a servant. But I hope you are right, in this case.”  
She smiled. “I hope so, too. Might I suggest something, Mr Stevens?”  
“Of course.”  
“I’d let the servants meet earlier than usual for your pep-talk. And they should already wear their costumes. They will be excited about dressing up, but if they see each other early enough they will have the time to grow accustomed to their own changed appearance, and to that of their fellow-servants.”  
“I see. Yes, thank you Miss Kenton, I think that is a very good idea.”  
“I’m glad you like it. Now, about the practicalities of these costumes...”  
And we went on to discuss how we might procure them. When I told her that Lord Darlington had given permission to use the old clothes stored in the attic, a thought came to me. “Do you still have that evening dress his Lordship gave to you?” I asked and took a sip of cocoa.  
“Yes.” She glanced down at her cup. “I could not bring myself to undo it.”  
“You might wear it at the party.”  
But she shook her head. “No, not with Lord Darlington present. It would be inappropriate, don’t you think?”  
She was quite right, it would have been presumptuous to wear the dress of his dead wife in his Lordship’s presence. To be honest, I was surprised that I had not realised that myself.  
“But what about you?” Miss Kenton asked, tilting her head, and there was a teasing glimmer in her eyes. “Have you thought about a costume yet?”  
I huffed. “I have not yet had time for this.”  
She grinned. “Well, I’m looking forward to it.”  
“Really, Miss Kenton, it seems to me you’re quite enthusiastic about this whole business.”  
Her chin rose. “And why should I not? It’s a change, for once, something to break the routine. That’s good, isn’t it?”  
I glanced down at my cocoa. “If you say so, Miss Kenton.”  
When I looked up again I found her examining me closely. My words seemed to have placated her, though. “Yes, Mr Stevens, I’m looking forward to it,” she said. “I like the excitement, the novelty and the whole business of dressing up. And what’s so bad about wanting to be someone else for an evening?”  
She was looking at me quite insistently, and somehow I could not think of anything to say. After some moments of silence I switched the subject and we soon finished our discussion. I left then, wondering for the rest of the evening what on earth I should choose as a costume.


	3. Chapter 3

Two weeks have passed and the staff has reacted to the news with the expected excitement. I am, however, glad to report that until now this has not led to any greater disruptions.  
The production of the costumes is overseen by Miss Kenton and Roger, the Second Footman, who once trained as a tailor. This means, though, that Miss Kenton is now more busy than usual on most evenings, and had to cancel some of our cocoa sessions. This is rather unfortunate, for one has grown accustomed to those quiet evenings in her parlour, when one could discuss professional matters in a relaxed atmosphere.  
But tonight she invited me to her room again and I was glad for it for there were a few things which I wanted to discuss with her. We talked about work for a while and when we had finished that to our satisfaction we finally settled back into our usual places with our cups of cocoa.  
“So no costumes tonight?” I asked after a few moments of silence.  
“No,” Miss Kenton replied with a smile and a shake of her head. “I thought I’d treat myself to a free evening. No maids whining why their hemline can’t be higher or the cloth of their costumes adorned with rhinestone, just relaxing conversation.”  
I raised an eyebrow. “Well, I hope I can provide that.”  
“Oh, I’m sure you can, if you try to.”  
I huffed a laugh, looking down at my hands, and then said, “So how are you getting on?”  
“Very well, thank you. And I am really sorry that our customary meetings are suffering because of all this.”  
“Not at all Miss Kenton. I am grateful that you take on this business with such verve.”  
She smiled. “Don’t worry about that, I’m enjoying it very much. It’s a nice change from mending cushions.”   
“I can imagine that.” I paused, then took up something she had just said which had perturbed me a little. “Hm, Miss Kenton, you just mentioned that some of the maids wanted rather high hemlines?”  
She grinned. Unlike me she didn’t seem to be worried about that. “Of course they do, Mr Stevens. Not only higher hemlines, but also lower necklines. They are young girls, what do you expect?”  
I looked out of the window. “Really, Miss Kenton, I don’t quite know what you mean.” I heard what sounded suspiciously like a soft giggle, but didn’t turn towards her. “I trust you will take care that the rules of propriety are maintained?”  
“I certainly will, Mr Stevens.” But when I turned back to her, her eyes were sparkling with mischief. “You can be assured that no member of our staff will wear anything remotely frivolous.”  
“Well that’s a relief.”  
She took a sip of cocoa but her amused expression did not change. “There might, however, be a problem,” she went on in a very deliberate way. “Perhaps our definitions of ‘frivolous’ are quite different?”  
“What do you mean?”  
“Well, perhaps you could provide me with some guidelines. How much skin might be exposed, for example? And can the neckline be lower if the hemline is? Things like that.”  
I shifted in my seat, “Really, Miss Kenton, the nonsense you sometimes talk.”  
Her eyes grew wide in mock-innocence. “Do I? I’m very sorry, Mr Stevens.”  
“I bet you are,” I said dryly, a bit surprised how fast we'd found ourselves bantering like this again. “But as I said, I trust your judgment of common decency, Miss Kenton. And your regard for my poor nerves and those of his Lordship.”  
She laughed out loud. “Don’t you worry, Mr Stevens. We’ll all be quite respectable.” She paused, her eyes still sparkling, and I knew that this wasn’t over. “What about your own costume? You haven’t come to see me, yet.”  
And I definitely wouldn’t. Having Miss Kenton fussing all over me, fitting pieces of cloth onto my body, was not something I liked to contemplate. Sometimes her lack of propriety is rather disconcerting. “Oh, I’m sure Roger is qualified enough for my purposes. I don’t want to trouble you with this.”  
She grinned. “He is. But have you decided on anything, yet?”  
“No, I have not.”  
“But you must have some ideas, surely.”  
“Some rather vague ones. Nothing definite, I’m afraid.”  
“Well, do tell, perhaps I might help you.”  
“No, I really don’t think so.”  
She looked exasperated. “Mr Stevens, there must be something you would like to try out.”  
“I don’t think so,” I said rather pointedly.  
She cocked her head. “Well, often a costume represents some part of the wearer’s character. Perhaps something he or she can’t express in everyday life. Some hidden wish or aspiration.”  
“Is that so? I heard Charlie has decided on being a pirate.”  
Miss Kenton laughed. “Yes, he has, and a very striking one at that.”  
“So what does that tell us about him?”  
She smiled. “I think we both know Charlie well enough to see how fitting the costume is.” Her eyes narrowed. “But we were not talking about Charlie, we were talking about you and your troubles finding a costume.”  
“Really, Miss Kenton, I can assure you I will find one eventually.”  
She didn’t answer, just examined me which was a bit disconcerting. “Sometimes people choose something they wanted to be as a child,” she went on, ignoring my statement. “Like Michael. He’s dressing up as a cowboy, and he told me that he always wanted to become one when he was young. What did you want to be as a child, Mr Stevens?”  
I shook my head. “You know, Miss Kenton, I don’t think that’s any help. I don’t remember ever wanting to be something different than what I am.”  
Her eyes widened. “Well. That’s…extraordinary.”  
I thought it high time we stopped talking about me. So I asked, “But what about you? Have you started with your costume yet?”  
“No, I’ve not had the time. But at least I have an idea.”  
“I see. And what might that be?”  
She shook her head. “Oh no, Mr Stevens. You’re not telling me about your ideas for a costume, so I’m not telling you. You will have to wait.”  
I gave a small laugh. “Fair enough. So will your costume express some part of your character?”  
Miss Kenton grinned. “Perhaps. But I suppose I would be a poor judge of that. You can tell me when you see it.” She seemed to think about it, then added, a bit self-consciously, “Perhaps it’s more an old secret wish of mine”.  
“Is that so?” I felt strange then, tired probably, and thought it was time to leave. “Well, I trust whatever you choose will be appropriate to your position.”  
Miss Kenton laughed out loud. “Really, Mr Stevens, what do you take me for? Do you think my wish as a child was to become a belly dancer or something like that?”  
“Well, how should I know about your secret wishes?”  
She looked at me and somehow I could not look away. After some moments I noticed that a strand of her hair had escaped the ribbon and was falling down over the side of her cheek, shimmering in the soft firelight. There was an odd change in the atmosphere. I don’t know if she noticed it, too, but her face grew grave, and she looked down at her hands and said quietly, “How indeed.” She fell silent for a while, then added, “But Mr Stevens, I can assure you that you have nothing to fear.”  
She did not look up for some moments and I drank out my cocoa. When she finally met my eyes again I said a few parting words and left.


	4. Chapter 4

Today his Lordship got the sad news that his uncle, Sir Lionel, has suffered a stroke. This means Lord Darlington will depart for Scotland tomorrow, and will most likely stay with Sir Lionel for up to three weeks, when a meeting with some French dignitaries will make his return to Darlington Hall necessary.  
As soon as Lord Darlington had informed me about this I sought out Miss Kenton. I found her in the drawing room where she was arranging flowers. She was as shocked as I was by the news, for Sir Lionel has not just been a frequent guest at Darlington Hall but is very well liked by the staff on account of his friendly and generous nature.  
“What about the costume ball?” she asked. It was only eight days to that event, so it was a very valid question.  
“His Lordship insists that it should go ahead as planned. Just without him being present, of course. We are to defer in everything to the wishes of Mr Cardinal and his wife.”  
“I am glad. I don’t want to sound insensitive but we have invested a lot of work in this and it would be a shame if it had been in vain.”  
“Yes, I agree Miss Kenton.” I examined her flower arrangement which, as always, was very tasteful and done with great skill. “With Lord Darlington gone, you might wear the evening dress after all,” I said, still looking at the flowers.  
“You’re right, I’ll think about it. To be honest, I haven’t got far with my own costume yet. But if I use the dress I will have to come up with an idea as whom I should be disguised as.” Miss Kenton deliberated for a while. “I don’t like to go as a real person, that would somehow feel preposterous.” She fell silent again for a while. “Ah,” she finally exclaimed. “Yes, that might work.”  
“You’ve thought of something?”  
“Yes. Do you know E.M. Forster’s Howards End?”  
“No, unfortunately not.”  
“You should read it, it’s very good. Anyway, it’s set in the right period, and the protagonist is a woman about my age. I suppose if I can’t think of anyone else that will have to do.”  
“Well, Miss Kenton, if it allows you to use the gown it sounds like a good idea.”  
“Yes.” She looked at me searchingly. After a few moments she smiled in a rather mischievous way and stated, “Mr Stevens, I have to say I think it is quite nice of you to take such an interest. In fact, if I didn’t know you better I’d say that you seem suspiciously keen on me wearing that dress.”  
I moved a branch of cherry blossoms, then stepped back to test the effect. “Really, Miss Kenton, that’s nonsense. I just wanted to spare you the trouble of sewing a costume.”  
“Indeed,” she said dryly. “I’m very grateful for your consideration.”  
I glanced at her and found her examining me in a rather odd way. I looked back to the flowers, nodded approvingly and took my leave.  
Of course Miss Kenton’s comment was nonsense, but I have to admit that her dress and the whole business of dressing up have very much been on my mind over the last days. The reason is that, until today, I still hadn’t decided on a costume for myself. It should be readily apparent that the choice was not an easy one. Whatever I chose had to be dignified, but could not be ostentatious. I considered military uniforms as well as diverse forms of clerical dress, but somehow nothing seemed quite right. Tonight, after much consideration, I finally decided that I would take my cue from Miss Kenton, which means that I will use one of the old suits from the attic. I have been up there a few days ago, going through several of the boxes containing clothes from as far back as the time of Lord Darlington’s grandfather, and found an evening suit which seems to be late Victorian. It is dignified and should be old-fashioned enough to serve as a costume, and it can be altered to fit me without much effort. Some more searching in the recesses of the attic – very dusty recesses, I have to add; I will have to send some staff up to have it cleaned – produced an old and empty doctor’s bag. I have no idea how it came to be up there, it might even be the relict of a former fancy dress party. But it gave me a good idea for a costume and I am rather relieved that this trying problem has been solved.  
I also took the time to look up the novel Miss Kenton mentioned, which I found in his Lordship’s library. Not that I doubt her judgement or that I worry her dressing up as the protagonist will not be suitable for the occasion. And I certainly don’t think that Miss Kenton would ever read any books which would be deemed inappropriate. But it is surely understandable that one wanted to know what kind of associations might be connected with this literary figure. Naturally I only had the time to page through the novel, but it seems that Margaret Schlegel is a respectable, sensible character and so I truly have nothing to worry about.


	5. Chapter 5

I am glad to report that the costume party went well, in spite of all my misgivings.   
All day long there was a peculiar excitement noticeable throughout the house. Following Miss Kenton’s advice, I had the staff assemble an hour earlier than usual, and it proved to be a very good idea, for there was a great deal of excitement in the air. The servants’ hall was filled with constant chatter and every new arrival was greeted with much hullo and many comments. Even my own attire earned some good-natured remarks.   
It was a motley crowd of costumed figures which gathered in the servants’ hall and with some it took me two looks to recognize the servant underneath. But I am glad to report that, as Miss Kenton had promised, all costumes were tasteful and not at all frivolous.  
“You look quite elegant, Mr Stevens,” someone remarked right behind me. “Very Victorian.”  
I turned around and faced Miss Kenton, who was looking at me with a smile on her face. Her eyes went to the doctor’s bag and, after a few moments of consideration, she said, “Dr Watson?”  
“Yes indeed.”  
She cocked her head a little. “I didn’t know that you are partial to Conan Doyle’s works.”  
“Well, partial is perhaps too much, but they are written in very good English, and I find they are relaxing as well as educational after a long day.”  
“Of course,” she said with a twinkle in her eyes.  
“You look very elegant yourself, Miss Kenton,” I went on quickly. And she undoubtedly did. I think there is no harm in admitting that Miss Kenton looked indeed not only elegant, but quite beautiful. Obviously I already knew the dress, but it seemed that she had altered it a bit so that it fit her slim figure even better than it had before. She had done up her hair in an old-fashioned style appropriate to the dress and adorned it with a sprig of white orchids from the conservatory which contrasted nicely with the auburn colour of her hair. For jewellery she wore long earrings with single pearls and a simple pearl necklace. This fit very well with the unostentatious elegance of the dress and, together with the hairstyle, emphasised how long and slender her neck is.  
As the comments of those around us indicated, Miss Kenton’s appearance elicited universal approval. Looking around I noticed some male members of the staff who were regarding her with looks which were not appropriate at all. I furrowed my brow and deliberated if I should say something, but since she only smiled and seemed to enjoy herself very much I remained silent.  
“Why, Mr Stevens, Miss Kenton, you make a fine pair!” I turned around to face Mrs Jennings who stood beside us, beaming. Even she had dressed up after a fashion although there was no way that she’d leave the kitchen that evening.  
“Thank you,” I said curtly. “But our dresses belong to different periods. Miss Kenton’s is Edwardian, while mine is Victorian.”  
Mrs Jennings made a throwaway gesture with her hand. “Whatever you say, Mr Stevens, you look like a very elegant couple.”  
“Hm. Well, yes, thank you,” I replied. By this Mrs Jennings had already turned to address one of her scullery maids and a moment later she left, hurrying to the kitchen.  
I shot a swift glance to Miss Kenton, who was looking after Mrs Jennings with a musing expression on her face. When Miss Kenton noticed my eyes on her it vanished and was replaced by amusement.  
“Well, Mr Stevens,” she said, raising one of her eyebrows, “now I see you in this suit I think you might have been right about the dangers of dressing up after all. I hope you won’t put on airs now you look so fine.”  
I barked a short laugh. “Really, Miss Kenton, I don’t think anyone will ever mistake me for a great lord.”  
She shook her head. “I’m not so sure. It’s probably a good thing that Mr Cardinal’s guests know each other so well.”  
“That I certainly agree with,” I said with emphasis. Her smile widened and for a moment I was caught by its radiance. It seemed it would take me some time to grow accustomed to her changed appearance. And surely that was no surprise, for, although I did not tell her, she truly looked like a grand lady from the time before the war, peculiarly familiar and unfamiliar at the same time. Loud laughter from a group of maids at the door jerked me out of my thoughts and I realised that I was staring at Miss Kenton’s neck and bare shoulders. Luckily she had turned away her head by then, so I could direct my eyes elsewhere without her noticing.   
I gave my pep-talk a few minutes later and afterwards everyone departed for their duties.   
An hour later I was standing in the entrance hall with Mr Cardinal, who had some last minute questions about the proceedings, when his eyes widened and he looked away from me to the door behind me. When I turned around I saw that Miss Kenton had entered.  
“Why, Miss Kenton, I hardly knew you,” he called out to her.   
She smiled self-consciously and came towards us. “Thank you, Mr Cardinal. But the same goes for you,” and she looked pointedly at the fine uniform he was wearing, which, if I’m not mistaken, was from the period of the Napoleonic Wars. “Wellington? Since I can see both your arms I suppose it isn’t Nelson. But I’m afraid I’m not good with uniforms.”  
“Yes, it’s Wellington. What about you?”  
“Margaret Schlegel. From Howards End. I know it’s not that obvious, but that’s the best I could come up with.”  
“No, it’s fine. Yes, I can see you as her.” He made a mock bow. “And you look very nice indeed.” He grinned. “What a shame I’m already married.”  
“Really, Mr Cardinal,” Miss Kenton replied with a light laugh, pretending to be scandalized.   
He was still looking at her in a rather musing way. I had long thought that Mr Cardinal had taken a particular liking to Miss Kenton, ever since that grand conference when they had both been responsible for the accommodation of the guests, and had consequently been working together closely. And his behaviour now affirmed my suspicion.  
“Well, at least you could dance with me tonight,” he stated.  
“Oh, I couldn’t.” Miss Kenton shook her head. “It would not be appropriate.”   
I felt great sympathy for Miss Kenton. She must have been mortified at that rather odd request.  
“Nonsense,” Mr Cardinal cried out. “It’s the twentieth century, isn’t it? And you will have a bit of time, after dinner?”  
“I might, but…”  
“And you can dance, can’t you?”  
“Well, after a fashion. At least I know some basic steps, but...”  
“Splendid! No excuses, Miss Kenton, you will be fine.” Mr Cardinal seemed to be enthusiastic about his idea. “It’ll be swell. Everybody will wonder who my mysterious dancing partner is.”  
“But your wife,” Miss Kenton objected. “Won’t she mind?”  
“Oh, not a bit. She already told me she wants to dance with every man present. So she can hardly be angry with me.” He beamed at her. “I’ll be looking for you later, Miss Kenton.”  
“Very well, Mr Cardinal,” she agreed, although I saw in her face that she was still reluctant. “I’m afraid I have to see to some things.” And she took her leave and left.  
Mr Cardinal was looking after Miss Kenton, and so was I. For the first time I saw the back of her dress, and I found that the neckline was rather low, exposing her bare shoulder blades.   
I averted my eyes and found Mr Cardinal regarding me.  
“Stevens, you are a lucky man,” he said with a smile.  
“Sir?”  
“To have Miss Kenton as a colleague.”   
“Oh. Yes, she is a most able housekeeper.”  
Somehow my comment seemed to amuse him, because he laughed and shook his head. “I’m sure she is, Stevens, I’m sure she is.”


	6. Chapter 6

Dinner went well and the staff deported themselves in a very professional manner. Later there was dancing in the large ballroom and although it was not necessary for me to remain present, I stayed to make sure that there were enough refreshments and everything was going well.  
After about an hour I saw Miss Kenton enter. She looked around and, as soon as she spotted me, came towards me. Mr Cardinal was dancing with one of his friends and it was unlikely that he had already seen her.  
“Mr Stevens,” Miss Kenton said as she positioned herself next to me against the wall, “is everything going well?”  
“Very well, Miss Kenton. And below?”  
“Oh, everything is quite all right.”  
We fell silent and observed the dancing couples. It was a very colourful sight, them all being in costumes and swaying elegantly to the music.  
“You have come for your appointment with Mr Cardinal?” I asked after a few moments.  
“Yes.”   
I turned my head to look at her and found in her face a mixture of excitement and awkwardness.  
“I just hope I don’t embarrass myself,” she said. “It’s been ages since I’ve danced. And I only know a few basic steps.”  
“I am sure Mr Cardinal will understand that.”  
She nodded. “Yes. He’s a nice man.”  
We went back to observing the dancing couples. It was just for a few more minutes, though, for as soon as the dance ended Mr Cardinal was looking around and as his eyes lighted upon Miss Kenton he came towards her.  
“Miss Kenton,” he said, beaming at her and holding out his hand. “I am very glad you came.”  
She raised her chin, returned his smile and put her hand in his. “I am all yours.” And then he led her to the dance floor.  
I have seen Mr Cardinal dance on a number of occasions, so I knew that he is a fine dancer and that Miss Kenton would be in good hands. They started out slowly, with what looked like basic steps and combinations. Miss Kenton seemed to do very well and soon they moved on to more complicated steps. There was a slight awkwardness in her dancing, as can be expected, given the situation, but all in all she moved rather gracefully and seemed to enjoy herself.  
When the first dance had ended, Miss Kenton made a gesture as if she wanted to leave, but it seemed that Mr Cardinal would have none of that, and she stayed for a couple of more dances. It was only when Mr Cardinal was approached by his wife that Miss Kenton excused herself. There were some other male guests who addressed her, obviously eager to dance with her now she was free, but she declined and left the room.  
A while later Mr Cardinal gave me leave to retire until the end of the dancing. As is my custom on such occasions, I took up position in the small hall next to the ballroom, to be at hand if my assistance should be needed. When I got there I found it deserted, and I didn’t expect any disturbances since only a rather hidden door leads to it. Just a few lamps on one side of the hall were lit and the greatest part of it lay in shadow. But I didn’t mind, the dim light was soothing after the bustle of the previous hours. I sat down on a chair positioned at the wall just below one of the lamps. The music from the ballroom was muffled by the door but still audible, and I enjoyed the relaxation after a long day.   
I don’t know how long I sat there, lost in the music and in my thoughts, but it must have been long after midnight when I was woken from my reveries by footsteps. When I turned towards the hallway which led to the farther reaches of the house I saw a female figure enter. There was hardly any light at that end of the hall, but the form and the stride were quite unmistakeable.  
“Mr Stevens,” Miss Kenton said, and as she came closer she stepped into the light and I could see her clearly. “I thought I might find you here. Why don’t you come down? There’s quite a celebration going on in the servants’ hall.”  
“Is there?” I furrowed my brow. “I hope it isn’t too lively?”  
She smiled. “No, don’t worry. But many of the staff are just too excited to go to bed just yet.”  
I snorted. “They’ll regret it when they have to get up tomorrow.”  
“No doubt. But I couldn’t find it in me to quench their festive mood.”  
“Hm. Perhaps I will come down later.”  
“Very well.” But Miss Kenton made no move to leave but sat down on a chair next to mine. It seemed she wanted to stay, although I had no idea why.  
“Did you enjoy yourself?” I asked after a few moments.  
“You mean the dancing? Yes, I enjoyed myself very much.” Her face was animated. “I had forgotten how much fun dancing is.”  
“Well, one couldn’t tell. That you were out of practice, I mean. You looked quite proficient.”  
“Thank you. But it was really Mr Cardinal who did most of the work.” She gave a light laugh. “After all people in our situation don’t usually learn much ballroom dancing.”  
“Yes.”  
“Nevertheless, it was actually when I entered service that I learned how to dance.”  
“Is that so?”  
“Yes. I was a young housemaid at Forthington Wells and his Lordship’s valet, Mr Turner, taught me and the other girls.”  
“Did he indeed.”  
She smiled. “You don’t approve?”  
“I certainly don’t.” I had a rather clear idea of this Mr Turner, teaching housemaids how to dance, spinning a young Miss Kenton around in a tight embrace. “It is not something I would encourage at Darlington Hall.”  
“No, I don’t suppose you would,” she said, and for a moment there was a peculiar sadness in her expression. “But you are wrong, Mr Stevens. Mr Turner never took any liberties, he was a real gentleman. Actually there were rumours that he came from a middle- or even upper-class family, had fallen on hard times and therefore had to work as a valet. Or that he was a gamekeeper’s son who had grown up and been educated together with a Lord’s son at a large estate. Romantic stories like that. I never found out if any of this was true, he didn’t speak about his past. But he could talk like a gentleman, and he knew how to dance. And he was quite willing to teach me some basic steps, once he saw that I showed an aptitude.”  
I snorted. “I can imagine that.”  
She smiled, rather wistfully. “I enjoyed it very much. But ever since, I’ve hardly ever had to chance to dance again. So tonight was a real treat.”  
We fell silent and I looked back towards the door to the ballroom. After a while I felt her eyes on me and turned to her again.  
“What about you, Mr Stevens? Do you enjoy dancing?”  
I huffed at that odd question. “I don’t have much experience. And I haven’t danced for ages.”  
“That does not really answer my question, does it?” Miss Kenton sat up a bit straighter, as if she’d just had an idea. “Would you dance with me?”  
“Pardon me?”  
“Right here. We can hear the music clearly, and there is enough space.”  
I was rather thrown by this ridiculous idea. “Really, Miss Kenton, whatever has come into your mind? You must see that it would be very improper.”  
“But why should it be? We are colleagues, are we not? So why should we not dance together?”  
I turned my eyes away from her eager face. “No, it is quite impossible.”  
“Mr Stevens, please. It would mean the world to me.” Her tone was serious, and when I looked back at her her face was grave.   
I laughed a little. “Really, Miss Kenton, you must realise that it is out of the question.”  
“No one will see us, if that’s what you’re worrying about,” she went on insistently. “Just one dance. A waltz, you can do a waltz, can’t you, Mr Stevens?”  
“Miss Kenton, please, why don’t you just leave and join the other servants celebrating downstairs?”  
“Oh no, I’d rather stay here with you.”  
I looked down at my hands, but it seemed that Miss Kenton was determined not to let this absurd issue rest. At least she made no move to depart.  
“You know how stubborn I am,” she went on after some moments had passed in silence. “I’ll stay here and pester you until you give in.”  
I sighed. “Miss Kenton, your costume must have gone to your head.”  
She chuckled. “Perhaps it has. It’s been such a wonderful evening and this would be the perfect ending.”  
I barked a laughter. “I suppose I should feel flattered about that.” I considered for a while, then said with a long-suffering sigh. “You will leave me in peace if I dance one dance with you?”  
“I promise. And I’ll not quarrel with you for at least a week.”  
“That’s tempting.” I hesitated, weighing everything in my mind. At last I said, “Very well then, but only one waltz.”  
Her face lit up in a radiant smile. “Thank you, Mr Stevens.”  
We fell silent again, listening to the music. When the next song turned out not to be a waltz I turned around to her again and asked, “What about your original costume?”  
“What do you mean?”  
“Well, I think you owe me the truth about that if I’m going to give in to your whim.”  
“You want to know what it was?” she asked, her mouth twitching.  
“I do.”  
“Is that so?” She paused and looked at me rather searchingly, suppressed laughter dancing in her eyes. “Very well. You see as a child I was something of a tomboy. I grew up in the country, and in our neighbourhood there were hardly any girls, so I played a lot with boys. There was a forest nearby, and one of our favourite games was Robin Hood. We climbed trees, built camps, made bows and arrows, fenced with sticks. It was a wonderful time.” She smiled at the memories. “And when the question arose what to choose as costume I had to think back at that time, and how happy I had been.” Her smile widened. “But then I thought you might not approve if I’d dress up as Robin Hood.”  
I had a worrying vision of Miss Kenton in tights, but banished the thought at once. “You were quite right, Miss Kenton,” I managed drily.  
She grinned. “I thought so. But then I thought Maid Marian should be all right. So that was to be my costume, Mr Stevens.”  
“Hm. Perhaps next time.”  
“Yes. That would be nice.”  
We were silent again. It was not long afterwards that the band started playing a slow waltz.  
“Well, Mr Stevens,” Miss Kenton said with a smile and rose from her chair. “Shall we dance?”  
I sighed, stood up and raised my arms slowly. Miss Kenton stepped closer and put her right hand on my shoulder and her left into my outstretched right hand. Her fingers were warm and slender and she wrapped them around mine quite confidently. I hesitated, then placed my left hand on her back, just above her slim waist. I was careful not to touch her bare shoulder blades. The fabric of her dress felt soft and warm beneath my fingers.  
I stared down at my feet, concentrating on the music. After a few moments I felt ready to start dancing. I am happy to report that, while of course in the beginning I was rather uncertain, I grew confident after only a short time. The waltz was a slow one and even though I had not danced for many years I think I did just fine.  
Miss Kenton’s voice broke my concentration. “Mr Stevens, I think it’s easier if you don’t look at your feet all the time.”  
I made a non-committal noise but was compelled to look up at her. Miss Kenton wore a smug expression. “I have to say, Mr Stevens, you are not such a bad dancer yourself.”  
I laughed quietly. “I’m sure I cannot compete with Mr Cardinal.”  
She gave me the smile she always does when she’s teasing me. “Well, I don’t know,” she said and cocked her head as if she were deliberating something. “It certainly is a greater feat to have made you dance with me than Mr Cardinal.”  
I laughed again. “Really, Miss Kenton, the things you sometimes say.” Her smile deepened and I looked away over her shoulder to be able to lead her to another part of the hall.   
By this we left the lit area and entered the dimmer reaches of the room. And there I became acutely aware of the whiteness of Miss Kenton’s bare shoulders, silhouetted as they were against the dark cloth of her dress. And looking down I couldn’t fail to notice how gracefully they swept up to her slender neck, and how that in turn passed into the delicate curves of her jaw line and cheekbones and lips.  
I became conscious that Miss Kenton was looking at me, and I glanced up to meet her gaze. She is rather tall for a woman and with the unusually high heels she was wearing tonight her eyes were as good as level with mine.  
I had expected her to still wear the amused expression she had before, but when I looked at her her face was strangely serious. Miss Kenton’s lips parted slightly, as if she wanted to say something, but she remained silent. Her eyes seemed uncommonly large and dark, and I found it impossible to look away from them.  
I have no idea how long we were staring at each other in that way. I don’t even know if we went on dancing or not. All of a sudden I felt very hot, and with some alarm I became aware that, without me noticing how, we had drawn together much too close; so close in fact that our bodies were nearly touching. I quickly took a step back to increase the distance between us and, looking over her shoulder again, I led Miss Kenton back to the brighter parts of the room.  
I heard her give a low sigh but did not turn to look at her face.  
Some moments passed in silent dancing, then she asked rather softly, “What is it, Mr Stevens?”  
I gave a small laugh. “Oh, nothing Miss Kenton.”  
She made an unsatisfied noise. “Really? I thought something was bothering you.”  
I hesitated but had to look back at her at last. “Oh, it is nothing. It’s just…” and I laughed again, “you look so different tonight.”  
She smiled, a little self-consciously. “In a good way, I hope?”  
I looked over her shoulder, than back at her again. “In a rather regal way.”  
Her eyebrow shot up as if she was surprised, then she laughed out loud. “Well, that’s a compliment I’ve never had before.” The teasing spark was back in her eyes. “So that’s why you didn’t refuse to dance with me – you just could not withstand my orders!”  
I chuckled. “I suppose that’s possible, Miss Kenton.”  
“So it seems you were right about the dangers of dressing up after all.” Her smile widened and I could not help smiling myself. Her eyes still seemed very large, and there were copper reflexes in her hair.  
After some more minutes the music stopped. I halted too, then let go of her, clasped my hands behind my back and stepped back.  
“Thank you for this dance, Miss Kenton,” I said with a slight inclination of my head. “It has been a pleasure.”  
She looked at me a bit strangely, and her radiant smile dimmed until it was back to a teasing half-smile. “The pleasure was all mine, Mr Stevens.”  
“I hope you enjoyed the evening?”  
“Oh, you have no idea how much I enjoyed it.”  
We kept looking at each other, but it seemed that the music had finally stopped for good, and I was of course eager to see to the guests. Miss Kenton had noticed it too, and so she drew herself up and said, “I will leave you to your duties, Mr Stevens. Good night.”  
“Good night, Miss Kenton.” And I watched her turn around and cross the hall, her red dress shimmering in the dim light, until she left the room.


End file.
